


Paper Skin

by Happy_Cow



Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe - Dystopia, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Artist Kylo Ren, Break Up, Darkfic, Digital Penetration, Drugs, F/M, Jealous Kylo Ren, Masturbation, Non-Consensual Voyeurism, Older Man/Younger Woman, Open Relationships, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Rey and Kylo are NOT soulmates, Scavenger Rey (Star Wars), Slow Burn, Verbal Abuse, WE GETTIN TO THE PART I KEEP THINKIN ABOUT, the burning is at the end
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-03
Updated: 2020-07-26
Packaged: 2021-03-05 04:29:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 4
Words: 11,021
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25058500
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Happy_Cow/pseuds/Happy_Cow
Summary: In this world, everyone is graced with a soulmate. On the day you are born, an Ident tag is etched into the first six layers of your skin. This mark is unique to you, and to the only other person in existence who will be compatible as your ideal mate. You will find each other — the State guarantees it. In this cold and dying universe, Love is the law of this world.Kylo Ren is anaberration— a diversion, and nothing more.
Relationships: Rey/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren
Comments: 20
Kudos: 40





	1. He's Funny,

**Author's Note:**

> dsflhasdlkjh I read all of the books in the Matched trilogy about 10 years ago and  
> I have 5 chapters for this:  
> He's funny,  
> He's cool,  
> He's good with his hands.  
> He likes me back,  
> But he isn't you.

When Finn first suggested it, Rey thought it was another joke. 

It was kind of a taboo, but Finn was bisexual. He liked women _and_ men. When he first confessed to Rey, she was a little shocked, but she got over it. Usually, it’s assumed that you’re whatever-sexual that makes you attracted to your soulmate, but Rey assumed she fell into Finn’s category. That is, until he kissed Poe Dameron.

Correction: _Poe Dameron_ kissed _him_. 

Well. Okay. Rey asked, _What did Poe’s soulmate say to him?_

Then Finn said, _Kaydel’s okay with it_.

How did Finn know that? Did Kaydel say so? Did Kaydel see it?

Without hesitation, Finn answered, _Poe told me, She thought it was hot, She wishes_. 

Rey was still mad for a few awkward hours, but then Finn walked into a utility pole as penance, and they laughed about that. She thought that would be the end of it. Finn knew Poe for longer than he knew Rey, so it wouldn’t have been fair to them to ask them to stay apart. Finn said it was an accident and she believed him.

Now... _this_.

Each heavy step drags her through the Graveyard. She needs to work. Scrap is dirt cheap, but it’s already material that’s been used, and abused, by whatever original treatment they gave it or how long it’s been rusting out in the elements. Somehow, somewhere, somebody dug a new mine into the earth. So they were in a bad way. Plutt worked her like a mule to generate a few sorely needed pennies. But she looks around, and sees only blown-out cars, and dead war machines. The drive is gone.

Her phone buzzes against her hip. Rey putters to a stop. She figures that it’s either Finn, or one of Finn’s friends, begging her to just _listen_. She reaches a gloved hand into the deep pocket of her jumpsuit and pulls out her phone. 

The screen wakes up; there’s one recent message,

**Need you.**

It’s from Kylo.

Rey sniffles. A hand sort of uncurls from her chest. That’s right. She knows of one person, who in a weird way, _belongs_ to her. _Only_ to her. Rey wipes away her stinging tears. She needs to dig out her Speeder, to drive to the Aberration’s trailer. 

.

Kylo Ren is an artist. She can see his works spread out away from the trailer where he lives, which is away from the town, and away from the Aberrant Quarter which he was supposed to stay in. When she drives here, she needs to stash her phone in the house or else the phone would track her. Fortunately she knows the desert well enough, to go on her adventures away from Plutt. 

She sees a billowing stream of smoke across the sky, then his pill-shaped house. Upon closer inspection, she sees that he’s not just burning garbage. There’s a great pit of fire dug into the ground, probably by the earthmover sitting a good distance away from it. If she squints, she can make out the figure of a man in the billowing smoke. As she drives by, he turns his head. He’s wearing some dark helmet, which will hopefully protect his airways.

Rey shudders, as she pulls her Speeder towards the trailer. Despite the scarf around her face, she coughs at the fumes. Rey abandons the Speeder and heads for the trailer, which is unlocked, and she steps inside. 

The air inside the trailer is only marginally better, but at least she doesn’t think it will give her cancer. As her heart slows, she tugs the scarf off of her face and looks around. The interior is darkly lit by the sun that bursts in through the dirt-crusted window. The paneling is designed to look like hardwood, but really it’s just plastic. Rey is always surprised to see that he has paper. She sees his drawings and designs scattered here and there, and cut-outs from old yellowed magazines. It looks like there’s food lying around on the floor again, which means rats and roaches are a given.

The door swings open, then shut behind her. 

Rey sees that he really _is_ wearing some sort of war helmet; it’s jet black save for the silver thread around the visor, and bucket-shaped. It should have come with some sort of body armor, but as it stands, it looks obscene with his A-shirt and cargo pants. “Why didn’t you wear a mask?” goes his muffled voice, in lieu of a _Hello_ , or a _How are you_.

“You didn’t tell me it was garbage day,” she retorts. 

He places his thumb on the chin of the helmet and lifts it off, cleanly — bet it’s easy without gloves or body armor on. Kylo is tall and wide, and he smells like the boys after gym class. He has a beard now. He grabs a towel from somewhere and wipes his glistening face, before fluffing his greasy hair for maximum volume. The neckline of the shirt and his armpits are stained with sweat.

“Nice helmet,” she says. “Why’d you call me here? You want me to look for a matching outfit?”

“Don’t go into my trailer without my permission,” he snaps. He throws the towel down and walks towards her, snatching a piece of paper from out of her hand. He leans down, until there’s only an inch of space between their noses. “If you do, then don’t touch my stuff,” he says darkly. 

He straightens himself. “Why not?” Rey mutters, petulantly, her face warm for some reason. “You’re going to just burn it all anyway.”

“An artist must also be an iconoclast,” he says, brushing past her. “Destruction is necessary, for the artist to grow.” Rey shrugged, and crossed her arms over her chest. Kylo selectively tugs papers from off of the walls and over the driver’s seat, collecting for himself a sizable packet. “Also,” he says, touching her cheek with his index finger, “I need toilet paper.” 

Rey chokes and smacks him off. _Disgusting_ boy. “Kylo.”

“Mm-hmm?” He folds the papers horizontally, then rips them neatly in half, his eyes bright and innocent of all wrong-doing.

“Why did you text me?”

He blinks, before putting down the papers. 

“Why did you text me?” Rey repeats, placing her hands on her hips. 

“I guess it must’ve gone through,” he mutters, placing his hands on his waist. He wanders over to the dining table, where a crusty ASUS laptop chugs on ad infinitum. “It’s the computer’s fault. I can send a text message so that the call can be pinged from a different location than here. But then you didn’t come for the last two weeks.” He babbles on while Rey places her hands on the sides of her head. “I think I must have queued texts trying to reach you again,” he says, placing his hands on his temple. “I’m sorry, Rey.”

“How many texts?” Her hands fall at her sides. “That way I know to ignore them.”

His eye twitches. 

“It’s a lot, isn’t it?” sighs Rey. “It’s fine. I’ll just... turn my... phone off.” Her words peter off. She remembers, suddenly, about all of the people outside of this trailer. The friends that love her, the boy who was made for her… or so she was taught, all her life. 

“Rey?” he says, tentatively. She lets her back fall against the wall. Kylo lowers his hands. 

She looks down at her dusty work boots, and his beat-up sneakers. “Kylo,” she says. “Can I ask you something?” He makes a sound. 

This is difficult for her to put into words, until she realizes one way. The words escape her before she can think on them: “Do you _like_ being Unmarked?” Kylo steps away from her. “Wait, I _mean_ —.” She raises her head. Kylo stares at her, his face an expressionless mask. 

Rey has nothing to lose, so she tells him. She reminds him about how cool Finn is, about how all of her friends were basically Finn’s friends first, and she didn’t really fit in with them at first because they went to different schools, but they were really cool. So then she tells him about recent events transpiring like Finn being a bisexual, and how she was okay with that, and then about Poe kissing Finn, and about how she was okay with that too, and so was Poe’s soulmate Kaydel Connix, but then now _this_ came along and suddenly things feel _wrong_. She asks Kylo if accepting the one had led to the other like a domino effect. She asks if it can be reversed, somehow? Or if Finn is unsatisfied with her, and if so, was it a new thing? Was something wrong with her? 

Kylo’s expression stays the same as she speaks, however his arms slowly draw over his chest. Once she runs out of words, he stares pointedly at her. Rey swallows. She rubs at her stinging eyes. His long mouth twists into a frown of consternation. 

“So,” he says. He gestures with his left hand, making a claw at Rey. “In Finn’s plan, you can see other kids, too?”

Rey stares at him.

He bursts into a toothy smile. His eyes brighten.

Stunned, Rey blurts out, “Is that all you gleaned from that?” 

“It’s the _only_ part that matters,” he exclaims, waggling his eyebrows. Suddenly he grabs her by the shoulders. He shoves his face in front of hers — too close, _way_ too close. His eyes are flecked gold around the iris. She can taste his breath. “I have _so_ much to _teach_ you,” he says. “We’re gonna — we’re gonna have so much _fun_!” 

Heat rushes to her face. Rey shrugs out of his hold. “Oh, _get off it_ —.”

“ _Think_ , Rey! Are you gonna comb the scrapyards, while Plutt yells at you, while Finn is out there, getting as much pussy as he wants? Or dick,” he adds matter-of-factly.

Rey scratches at her temple. Her head hurts.

“I have an eight-pack,” Kylo declares. Determined to sell himself, he grabs the hem of his A-shirt and lifts it up. 

“Oh wow,” exclaims Rey. 

He sucks in his stomach to try to give himself more definition, before giving up. Then a new idea comes to him. “I have money —.”

“Alright!” snaps Rey, holding up her hands.

“Yeah!?”

“ _Yeah_ ,” she chokes, raking through her hair. Whatever, she just needs him to shut up.

Kylo hops into the air. He bounces along the trailer, whooping like the boys at a soccer game. The trailer shakes slightly.

“But, no...” Rey begins. Kylo approaches, a sober expression on his face. Rey points between her legs. “No _pussy_ stuff.”

“No _pussy stuff_? Oh _man_ ,” he whines, disappointed.

“I’m still - I’m still a _virgin_ ,” she chokes. 

“Oh... But the mouth and the butt are still free?” he says, his spirits rising once more. 

“You’re fucking _disgusting_ ,” she blurts out, furious suddenly.

… But on the other hand, he was just _perfect_. None of Rey’s friends knew him, he had money, and he wasn’t awful to look at. He belongs to no one. He comes with no strings attached. He is the living definition of the old-world’s One-Night-Stand, or even a Friend-with-Benefits, because he is an Aberration.


	2. He's Cool

To make up for it, Finn became _extra_ attentive to her. He sent her a playlist of _Forgiveness_ songs, and on the weekend they went to the mall and ate at the food court. It was a double-and-a-half date; Poe Dameron brought Kaydel along, and Rose (whose soulmate lived in Belgium) came, too. Then they watched a movie.

Kylo gave Rey the stink-eye as she described this date to him. Since he shaved his beard off, it was easier for her to read his facial expressions. She could tell from his puckered lips that he was physically holding back his comments until the end, in which the _dam_ burst forth. 

“Rey,” he begins. “What do you _think_ a _date_ is?” He paints the air with his dinner plate hands and cries, “You _can’t_ have a _date_ with _five people_ in it, _unless_ it _ends_ in an _orgy_!” 

“Ew,” Rey snaps.

Kylo pinches the bridge of his nose and mutters _I’m talking to a child_... “Tell me about your first date,” he demands, making a pinching motion with his hands. “I want to, I want to hear it. It’s very popular at parties.”

He means the one where Rey and Finn went to a very fancy grocery store. They walked around and ate free cheese samples. They talked as they walked and learned the intimate details of each other’s lives (“Except Finn’s Big One,” Kylo notes.) and it was the first time that Rey realized that she could spend the rest of her life with this boy. “… Do you tell other people my stories?” she realizes.

“You walked around a _Kroger’s_ ,” cries Kylo. “What’re you two _freaks_ gonna do when you’re _sixty years old_ and _bored_ with each other? Hell, my _mother_ invites her _girlfriend_ in to spice up an evening.”

Rey keeps her mouth shut, or she would say something distasteful. Of course an Aberration wouldn’t understand what unconditional love feels like.

Kylo lowers his voice, reigning himself in. Since last she saw him, he had shaved off all of his beard except for a distracting strip of mustache above his upper lip. “Rey, you like to sell yourself as low maintenance, but someday you’re going to have to ask yourself just how _cheap_ you are.”

Now Rey _has_ to say something. She says, “You know I scavenge for scrap, right? Me and Finn aren’t made of money.” Rey points at herself and asks, “How can I ask him to spend money on me, when I can’t do the same?”

“There are ways to date without breaking the bank,” he says. His eyebrows raise. “It was brave of him to invite his side-piece, though.”

Rey squeezes her eyes shut, _pained_.

His eyes flicker. “What if,” he begins, “I take you out on a _real_ date?”

Rey looks around the insides of the trailer. 

Kylo taps on his ASUS at the dining table. Rey sits across from him, her chin resting on her fist. The window next to them illuminates half of his lopsided face. He wears a pair of thick old-world glasses that age him about ten years more than she thought he was. “There’s a, um, _party_ , _tonight_.” He sticks his tongue out of the corner of his mouth. 

He goes on to say, “It’s an exhibition.” Tapping. “You know how museums, will showcase one artist?” His eyes read something on the screen. “It’s like that.” More tapping. “There’ll be food.” His eyes raise to meet hers.

Rey has never been to a museum before. “Will there be a lot of people?”

He shrugs, his attention returning to the laptop. “You know how it is. I have to keep things _quiet_ , but, _word gets around_.”

Rey bit her lower lip. What if someone sees her there? Wouldn’t she get in trouble?

“No phones allowed,” Kylo adds.

Rey scratches at a little stain on the table. Her thin fingers, the _second_ and _third_ on her left hand, are still numb after getting crushed by shifting armor plating two years ago. Her nails are yellow around the edges, and caked with dirt. Nervously she picks at them. Why is Kylo doing this? What does he get out of this arrangement? Does he really expect to get sex out of her? The ‘ _good_ ’ sex?

Then again, this is perhaps another reason why he’s Aberrant, something that goes beyond a lopsided face or trailer-living: he might just be a little crazy in the head. Crazy enough to think she‘s capable of giving him whatever it is he wants. 

Kylo looks at her and he says, “So I can put you down as a ‘Maybe’?” Rey nods. He reaches down and taps the table with his fingers. “Okay. Okay, I need to rethink the number of hor d'oeuvres. Wear something nice.”

“ _What_? How nice?” 

Soothingly, Kylo says, “Just the _nicest thing_ you can find, so long as it’s a _dress_. But not what you’re wearing now.” Rey looks down at the orange jumpsuit, stained with mud and dust. 

.

Rey has driven out to Kylo’s at night before. It’s a lot cooler than daytime, and that combined with low visibility helps her transport heavier finds to his workshop. Except this time, Rey is carrying only herself, and she won’t receive money at the end.

As the Speeder drives within sight of the trailer, she sees lights strung up around the periphery. Brave of him. Sweat beads out beneath her layers; Aberrations aren’t safe outside of their own quarters. Even if Kylo is rich enough to get the county to look away, that doesn’t protect him completely, say from rogue Widowers. 

The lights turn brighter as she approaches. There are strings of cylindrical lanterns between the tall poles erected around and behind the trailer, giving it a celebratory air. Rey sees a few other vehicles besides her Speeder: an old-world car, a motorcycle, a few others. Antiques.

Kylo runs out from behind the trailer, his face paper-white underneath the lanterns. His eyes are drawn onto his face. He has a white shirt and a red tie, as bright as a wound ripped down the front of his chest. He stops a foot away from her.

“You made it!” he cries, smiling. He grabs his (combed, shiny) hair in his hands, but his smile cracks as his eyes flicker down her jumpsuit. His lips press into a thin line. He clears his throat, and jerks his head. 

“Am I late?” Rey slides off of the Speeder. She brushes dust from off her pants. He mutters underneath his breath and jerks his head again, angling his body towards the trailer. “Is something wrong with your neck?”

Kylo narrows his eyes. His brows crinkle. “Get — get _changed_ ,” he mutters. He smooths a large hand down his bright red tie. His Adam’s apple bobs in his throat and he looks down, talking in a low stream of words. “Did you forget? It’s — it’s _fine_. You could have told me you didn’t have anything _nice_ to wear—”

From behind the trailer and voice cried, “Kylo? Where’d you run off to?”

Kylo turns his broad back to Rey as if trying to _hide_ her. 

Rey reaches up to the neck of her jumpsuit and pulls the zipper down. 

“Just checking in on my guest,” says Kylo, sliding his hands into his pockets.

A pale, red headed man approaches. He wears a dark, long coat which looks hot even in the desert night. “And abandon your other guests in the process?” he remarks snidely. “Who is she? A _daughter_?”

Rey sheds the hot jumpsuit, her exposed skin pebbling in the night air. The redhead goes quiet, and now Kylo turns around to look at her. Rey thinks she preferred it when they were fighting. When she’s finished wrestling back into her boots, she tosses the deflated jumpsuit over her Speeder, hoping that nobody will take her stuff. Then she brushes down over the back of her dress, also hoping that none of the men caught a good look at her underwear.

“Oh,” says the redhead.

Rey turns to the two of them. Suddenly she feels _too_ exposed. Cold, even. The dress is something she found from Goodwill. It’s grey, with a U-shaped neckline. The pencil skirt, which had inverted and hitched up her waist while inside the jumpsuit, now wraps tight around her thighs. 

But their eyes are drawn to her upper left arm, which bears her Mark. The redhead’s lips curl into a sneer of open contempt. Kylo’s expression is a mask. Suddenly self-conscious, Rey raises a hand to cover her goosebumped Mark. With prickling horror, she realizes she hadn’t asked Kylo exactly what kind of guests he had invited. 

Kylo breaks into smiles. He reaches down and places her left hand on the inside of his arm. Startled, when Rey looks up at him, he leans down.

The redhead groans in disgust.

When Kylo straightens again, his face is red, but he’s smiling. Nobody’s ever looked at her the way he has. Rey’s lips tingle, so she licks at them, while Kylo turns to the redhead and tells him to shut up and stay with the party next time. Kylo just kissed her. Kylo just kissed her in front of another man. Rey licks her lips, unable to believe just what happened. But now they’re walking towards the back of the trailer, to his workshop. She needs to catch up to match his long stride, she doesn’t want to drag behind him. This feels like a dream. 

.

The workshop is transformed. Rey stops dead in her tracks, stunned at the gallery spread before her. Kylo looks at her with concern, then chuckles when he sees her face. There’s a small white table with stacked plastic cups and tall bottles. Kylo pours a cup and hands it to her. Rey takes it, so as not to be rude. When she sips at it, it stings in her mouth, but she feels very adult about it. She thinks she can detect hints of citrus. 

A few guests mill about, the most striking being a tall, blonde woman in a suit, pushing an old man in a wheelchair. People look at Rey with curiosity, but not the intense disdain of the redhead. Kylo smiles and shakes hands, and explains his work, even gesturing at Rey every so often. He credits her for finding the scrap or making some gesture that she never knew would be so important to him. Every time someone approaches, she leans closer to him, to hide the Mark on her shoulder. Despite her best intent to listen and learn, these things fly far above Rey’s head. Kylo’s sculptures look very big. Kylo’s landscapes are beautiful and bleak. Kylo’s photographs of nude women make her uncomfortable.

“Rey?” he ventures. He grabs her by the shoulders, looking into her eyes. “I’m sorry,” he blurts out, “are you bored, sweetheart?”

“N-no,” Rey says, aware that his hand spans her Mark. Her face heats up. She looks around at the gallery, realizing that she’s really out of place. Is he embarrassed by her? She’s been sipping at her wine and nodding listlessly to whatever he’s saying to someone else.

Kylo says “I didn’t think this many people would come.” He glances quickly to the left. Rey turns and sees the tall woman and the old man watching them. Kylo squeezes her shoulder, drawing her attention again. “I won’t... I won’t ask you to stay longer,” he says, his eyes crinkling. “Today’s a school night. If you leave now, I would _completely_ understand.”

“Oh.” Rey looks down at her red plastic cup. A tiny, black speck sits at the bottom, “Do - do you want me to leave?”

A pause. “Do you want to stay?” he asks. His fingers curl around her shoulders. “ _No_ ,” he murmurs, “ _I don’t want you to leave_.”

“Then I’ll stay,” she hears herself reply. Her throat clicks as she swallows.

She wonders if he even heard her, until he raises her chin and presses another kiss to her lips. This time she’s present _enough_ for it, and then it’s over. Soon she’s given a plate of ‘hor d'oeuvres’, which must be French for ‘mini-quiches’, while Kylo walks off to talk to his mysterious benefactors. This is a lot different, than eating at the mall, or walking around a grocery store, she thinks.

.

Once the last of the guests leave, Rey has finished off the last of the remaining snacks. Kylo returns. He asks if she wants more to drink. The lights sear into her retinas; it’s very late, and Rey tried the other bottle on the table, and now she feels a little dizzy. Maybe she should’ve gone home after all. 

“You’re in _no_ condition to drive,” Kylo says sternly. He reaches to his collar and with sharp tugs of his hand, he loosens his tie, sighing. He wraps his hand beneath her armpit, and it tickles a lot. _Lightweight_ , he mutters, as he walks her back to the trailer. 

Once inside, he shoves away from loose papers, and guides her to a long and odorous seat stretched out along the interior of the trailer. She notices a fat, multicolored beach ball just sitting on the dining table, and he bats it away with a flick of his palm. Some energy and sobriety returns to Rey. Right now she regrets telling him that she wanted to stay. She had no idea what caused her to. Morning was going to be a living Hell going off how many hours of sleep she could muster.

“Lights,” he warns. Rey squeezes her eyes shut, and the lights flick on. Kylo approaches. His collar is loosened, exposing the tanned column of his throat. In the confines of the trailer, at night, he looks larger. Kylo smiles at her, and he carries a small, thin box. He pulls it open and tugs out a brown stick.

Is that a cigar? Rey sits up, and scoots over, making room for him to sit down beside her. Kylo flops down with a _whump_ , with his legs spread. “You did _really_ good,” he says, turning to look at her.

“... I did?” 

“That little _magic trick_ you did, with the costume change?” He places the stick between his teeth and leans down to rifle in his pockets. “Sexy,” he says through gritted teeth, waggling his eyebrows. He pulls out a silver lighter from his pocket.

Her face warms. Did he really expect her to ride on the Speeder in formal wear? The sand would get everywhere. Kylo lights the cigar and a sweet scent fills the air. She tells him it smells really nice, and he tugs it out of his mouth. “That’s because it’s a _clove_ ,” he says, blowing smoke out through the corner of his mouth. “It’s healthier.”

He offers it to Rey, who takes it between her pointer and finger. _Try it_ , he urges. Then he stands up so she can’t give it back. “Let’s have some dessert,” he says, wiping his hands on his back pockets.

After some initial coughing, Rey smokes the clove and eats the chocolate brownies that he gives her. Her running anxiety begins to slacken. Already she’s appreciating this after-party.

.

“I want to show you something,” Kylo says, from far away. “Wake up, baby.” Gently he shakes Rey by the shoulder. She lifts her head, bleary-eyed. She turns her head. Kylo’s long, pale face stares back at her. Shit — she straightens up, realizing that she fell asleep on him. So not cool.

Her neck feels hot. Why does it feel hot? She raises a hand to the back of her neck, and feels her long, coarse hair let down. Her scalp prickles as she combs back her hair; she doesn’t like wearing it this way, it feels too hot.

Kylo coos sympathetically, but he says she looks _real pretty_ with her hair down. Rey flushes, her cheek resting against his broad shoulder, until he slides away from her. Her head flops onto the hard seat cushion.

“You remember that _thing_ you found for me?” Kylo is saying. He’s standing over her, like a giant. A big, friendly giant. Rey licks her lips. She wishes for more brownies. Her hands writhe towards him, grabbing his shirt, tugging the end from out of his pants. His hands circle her wrists like manacles.

_Not yet_ , he laughs. Then he mutters, _we’ll see_. Then he raises a long, long leg and places one knee beside her waist, so that he’s half-straddling her. He pins her hands above her head and tells her not to move or else.

_Is this what you want?_ His long, thick fingers pull out the loop of his belt. He tugs down the hem of his dark pants, snuffling through his long nose. Kylo looks like nobody’s she’s ever seen before. Is that why he’s an Aberration?

His lips pull into a smile. “You think I’m ugly?” he asks, but already she’s shaking her head. He’s _unique_. There’s got to be somebody out there, in the great big world, who can love him and give him babies. It’s not illegal anymore, and sometimes Aberration-born babies can get Matched if they are very lucky. That’s how Rey was born. Rey was lucky.

But Kylo pulls down his bright red boxers and now she feels a little uneasy. She wants to roll away, but his thick legs box her in to the long seat. Her hair clings to the seat and her face from the static electricity that’s thick inside this dry, hot trailer. 

With his thumb, he peels down the hem of his boxers. His skin is pale beneath, stretched taut over his hip bone. She can smell the salt off his skin. He leans in to kiss her brow and murmurs something underneath his breath, something about beauty. She’s scared, but not surprised — there’s something _inevitable_ about the thing that is happening. Something she’s waited for. When he leans down to kiss her on the mouth, she kisses back. His hair tickles her face. When he rolls her bottom lip in his teeth, she makes a small sound. Then he sits back, gasping. _Rey, look_ , he croaks.

At first she’s not sure what she’s looking at. On his hip, is a red mark. At first she thinks it’s some sort of scab, but then her vision focuses. It’s a bloody circle, with spikes on the inside. 

_Do you know what this is?_ he asks. Rey shakes her head. She swallows. The sight makes her uneasy. She remembers she wanted brownies before, well she felt a little sick now. She wished she hadn’t seen it. But Kylo takes her chin in his hand and tilts her face so she can see his eyes. He’s smiling a strange smile. _Now we’re the same_ , he says. _We’re nearly the same, Rey._

_Once I’m done, I’ll finish you_.


	3. He's Good with his Hands

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> henlo!! this is where they finally do the _thing_ lol 
> 
> she wants it,, _for noww_

Rey tries not to think about the future; if she did, she would turn right back around. The sky is a thick grey ceiling, the air heavy with the promise of rain.

Jakku growls like a titanic beast. Rey leans into her Speeder and prays that the sky holds. Just as the trailer comes into sight, the first few spots of rain hit her arm.

In seconds, the desert is reduced to splattered mud. Rey slides her vehicle to a stop and makes a break for the trailer door. The rain drives into her face like needles. It’s locked — she pounds her fist on the door. He’s never left it locked before. What if he’s not in? She shouldn’t have come this was a mistake —.

The door swings open. Rey blinks the raindrops that run down her eyes like tears. Kylo stares back at her, his face reflecting her own dumb surprise. Then he grabs her and pulls her inside. The door locks shut behind her.

It’s warm, and dry inside, but Rey shivers. Her skin stiffens with goosebumps.

“You’re going to have to take off your clothes,” Kylo murmurs, “otherwise you’ll catch pneumonia.” He steps in front of her. He wears red boxer shorts and a loose button down shirt, open at the chest. Without preamble he places his fingers on the zipper at the center of her chest and tugs down.

Rey pulls her arms out of her sleeves and covers her chest, more out of reflex then any real embarrassment. She’s still in her bralet and underwear. Kylo kneels before her as he pushes the jumpsuit down her legs. He touches her knees as he tells her to step out of her waterlogged boots and Rey obeys. The floor of the trailer feels hard and gritty against the soles of her damp feet. Then he grabs the wet bundle in his hands and shoves it aside on the floor.

When he’s finished, he straightens. Slowly, his eyes scroll from up her legs, to her chest, and then to her face. The column of his neck pulses. He tosses a pair of flip-flops in front of her. Then he turns around and mutters Let me find you a towel, in a choked voice.

Rey slips into the oversized flip flops. She looks at the driver’s seat, where he’s set down his thick sketchbook. Water beats against the other side of the windshield. The sketchbook is closed, but she raises the cover and sees some rough sketches. It’s mostly quick poses of women. It reminds her of the photo gallery, from the party. Her skin prickles. Rey picks up the sketchbook, and small papers fall out.

Rey crouches down to pick these up, when she sees the girl in the pictures. She picks one of the photographs up.

“You _really_ shouldn’t look at a sketchbook,” he says, “when you don’t have permission to do so.”

Nervous, Rey picks up the other fallen photographs and gathers them into a thin deck in her hands. She stands up on wobbly knees. Kylo stands behind her, expression blank. Clutched in his left hand is a grey towel. I’m sorry, she mutters, glancing back down at the photos. Her photos. The dress, the hair...

She can hear the click of his throat.

He plucks the photos from out of her hands and places these behind the cover of the sketchbook, where it lay on the driver’s seat. His lips press into a thin line.

“Are you mad at me?” he asks without looking at her. “You know I can’t find the right poses on the Web. I use these for figure practice, that’s all.”

Rey shrugs.

“I destroy them after,” he says, looking out the windshield. “You can leave if you want.”

“You’ll destroy - _mine_ , too?” Kylo turns to her, his eyes wide. Rey is surprised as he is at her own question.

A shadow passes over his face. Rey wraps her arms around herself as he looks her over; her scarecrow frame, her narrow chest. She’s not sure of him. She thought she knew Finn, but it turned out she was wrong about her own soulmate. She was wrong about how she would feel about it. So maybe Rey doesn’t know anything at all. She licks her lower lip.

Kylo draws a short breath. “Did,” he begins, “did you get any more weird texts from me?”

Rey shakes her head, her nerve sinking to her stomach. She knows she wasn’t called here. Maybe she’s too skinny for him, not like the models he normally takes pictures of. She shivers from the goosebumps prickling her body. Not even Finn has seen her like this...

The towel unfurls in his hands, and he wraps it around her shoulders like a cloak, before leaning in. His mouth pushes into hers.

Rey opens her lips, surprised. Kylo squeezes her in his arms, trapping her body against his. Her eyes flutter closed.

Kylo presses a last kiss into the corner of her mouth, before resting his forehead against hers. “I knew you’d come around,” he sighs.

.

While the rain beats against the walls, Kylo tugs the three ties from out of her hair and lets the tresses fall down her back. They sit on the long seat from last night, where they smoked the clove and ate brownies and... Now he presses her hair dry, between the towel and his hands. She’s never been treated with this kind of care, not from anybody. “Do you really like me?” she asks before she can stop herself. Then she winces. Oh _cringe_. Definite _cringe_.

Kylo snorts and mutters yes. Her insides flip flop. “You smell nice, and your hair is so _shiny_ ,” he hums.

“Oh.” That’s nice of him to say. She’s not sure how to reply to that, besides the default thanks, you too. Kylo is handsome, for sure, but if she said it aloud, wouldn’t he laugh at her? Would it be cool if she told him he’s hot? She and Finn have never really done this flirting thing because they would probably laugh at each other; this is so _weird_.

He goes on despite her inner turmoil. “Sometimes I look at you, and I think about all the pretty babies we’d make.”

Heat floods her face. He couldn’t do _that_ , she knew. It felt gross that Kylo would say _that_ , but it also felt nice in a sickly _sweet_ way. Flattering. She’s not even sure if Finn thought about the babies - the _children_ they would have to make someday. Without any sure way to respond to him, she forces out, “ _Thank... you_.” Her shoulders hunch in embarrassment. She thinks that was one of the photos — wasn’t there a beach ball in here the other night? She‘s sure she saw herself with her stomach bloated up, but it‘s too weird to ask.

His fingers comb to the very end of her hair. Rey turns her head and sees him press his mouth to her freckled shoulder. Rey swallows nervously. Shouldn’t she be doing that, too? Slowly she cranes her neck towards him, to give him the option to turn away or something like that. Instead he leans in and kisses her quick on the mouth, then again, and he smiles, pink creeping up his ears.

“Think I wanna take more pictures of you,” he mutters, releasing her suddenly. He rakes his hands through his hair. “I don’t like the old ones, but you said not to - you said to keep them, so I don’t know.”

Rey swivels herself around, her bare thighs sticky against the faux-leather upholstery.

Kylo huffs and puffs. He stands up quickly and returns with seven photographs. Rey sees herself lying unconscious on the long cushioned seat. Her skin crawls as she fingers through them — she sees herself lying back with the beach ball shoved up her dress, but there’s also ones where her dress is hitched up to her waist, or her hands are deliberately positioned on her crotch or chest.

“It’s kind of unnatural, isn’t it?” he says as he sits down beside her, but his tone is intrigued. His hungry eyes keep glancing at her face. “...Maybe, maybe I _will_ keep them.”

Dunno. Just like the party, Rey feels that maybe she doesn’t understand ‘art’. Still she feels that sticky sweet feeling inside her, this flattery. She takes her breast in her hand. Kylo inhales sharply. He looks into her eyes like he’s asking for permission. His hand drops over hers.

Rey grits her teeth as his fingers slip beneath the cup of her bralet. His pupils eat up the whites of his eyes.

She bites down on her lower lip as he touches her, assuring herself that this is fine (probably). This is equity: this was What Finn Did with Rose. At present, Kylo rolls her nipple between his thumb and his index finger until it beads between his fingers. Then he peels the cup of her bralet up, exposing the one pale breast. Bracing his other hand on the seat, he leans in. From this angle, from his nose, he looks like a Grecian statue from the World History class vid-screens, until his red tongue lathes over her breast. Warm, wet. She doesn’t think Finn did this with Rose.

His eyes roll up to look at her. She doesn’t think Finn has ever looked at her like that, or maybe ever will.

“ _Look at me like that_ ,” he mutters, before holding up a long finger. Awkwardly he pushes himself off of the seat and looks around, before grabbing his old-world camera from a nook somewhere. It’s one of those cameras with only the one function — the big, clunky ones that nobody uses anymore except artistes. When he turns around and aims the lens at her, Rey is still stunned. Only when she hears the click of the shutter does she realize that her breast is out, and itchy with his dried saliva. Oh cringe.

Rey licks her lip and moves to pull her bralet down, when Kylo walks up to her and places his large hand on her shoulder. Rey falls flat on her back, eyes toward the yellowed ceiling of the trailer. His hand squeezes her shoulder as he stands over her, his face haloed by his dark hair. It actually - it really hurts. Rey swallows, her mouth dry, but his thumb smooths over her sun-freckled shoulder, in a small gesture of reassurance. When he releases her, there’s a red print of his hand over her nacreous skin. She hears the click of the shutter, and a sharp intake of air.

Did - did he take a picture of her _Mark_?

She looks at her reddened skin, as if to check if hers was still there. Her head swims, and suddenly, she remembers. The red circle filled with spikes, on his hip. She glances back at Kylo, who seems concerned with looking over the images saved in his camera. Her gaze flicks lower: there’s a tent in his red boxers. Rey swallows, nervous. Should she mention something or just ignore it?

As if hearing her thoughts, he turns to her, his brow rising. “Sorry,” he says, “could I take a few more shots of you?” He shakes his head quickly and says, “This isn’t anything romantic. I’ll pay you after. Or it could be romantic. I want to capture you on your back.”

“ _Oh go ahead_ ,” she huffs, throwing her head back. Stupid Aberration. He really is a strange one.

Kylo looms over her with a spritz bottle and he sprays her in the face, crying about how her hair is flying around. Then he spreads her hair behind her on the cushion before stepping backwards. “There,” he huffs, raising the camera to his discerning eye. “You look like an angel, by the way,” he coos. The shutter clicks.

Rey smirks, disbelieving. _You don’t mean that_.

He grabs her hand and raises her arm over her face, and he has the nerve to say I do as the shutter clicks. “You look like something that fell from Heaven.”

“You have a line for everything, don’t you?” she asks drily. Just like Poe, a born flirt.

“No.” He circles to the front of her. He crouches down, between her legs, so that she sees his smiling face below her breasts. Like a friendly gynecologist. Rey turns sharply and hides her face in the seat, as the shutter clicks.

“You’re not gonna show these to anybody, right?” she asks the faux-leather. The Mark especially could identify her.

“This is for my personal collection,” he says. The shutter clicks just beside her ear.

Rey turns her head and, unnervingly, sees the lens just inches from her face. With a shove, she pushes herself upright, before shielding her face with her hands. “Are we done?” she snaps, nervous.

There’s a shuffling sound. “I wanted to get some of you on your stomach.” His voice sounds fragile. Rey feels a touch of guilt as she lowers her hand. Kylo is turned away from her, putting down the camera on the table with his ASUS. “You really are pretty, Rey,” he says. “Finn’s a lucky kid.”

A shiver runs down her spine. Does he think so? she wonders. “Do you normally get Matched models?” she asks, tentatively. Is this another line?

He rolls his shoulders, muscles and sinew moving beneath his thin shirt. Again, like a living statue.“Sometimes,” he says. “Bored wives.”

So it _is_ another line. Rey shakes her head, sad for some reason. “You should be careful,” she says. She pulls her knees to her chest. “Finn is cool, but the next boyfriend or husband might not be so.”

“I can take care of myself.”

That’s what they all say, until the other man pulls out a blaster. “And that _thing_ on your hip,” she adds, “you need to be especially careful. The Stormtroopers are serious about that kind of thing.” He turns around, surprise on his face, and still unabashedly erect inside his boxers. She turns away, red in the face.

It used to be that Aberrations could mark themselves anyway they pleased, until one of them got smart enough to fake the genuine article. He killed a similar-looking young man and assumed his life and then his future mate, and the State didn’t find out until the Aberration went insane late in life — at which point, they had already had children. Up went the walls around the Aberration quarters, and the sirens to signal their eight o’clock curfews.

Rey looks at Kylo now, and sees his face, vacant of expression in his coal black eyes. His hands are empty, but they’re closed into loose fists at his sides. Rain beats against the walls of his run-down trailer.

“Maybe I want you on your stomach after all,” he ponders aloud.

The change in him is like a change in the air. Rey hugs her knees. The trailer creaks with each of his heavy steps. Goosebumps prickle along her skin. Is he angry? she wonders. Is he mad about his dumb tattoo?

“I didn’t tell anyone,” she says in self-defense. She just remembers what she saw, despite everything. He gets so close that his boxers touch her toes. Nervous, she releases her knees and shimmies away on her butt. “ _I didn’t tell anyone_ —”

“I know.” He drops his leg onto the seat and drops to his hands and knees, boxing her in, crawling over her. His lips curl into a smile that makes her stomach flutter. But it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “I know.”

Rey crosses her arms over her chest to protect herself, when his hand runs up her arm. Rey glances over her shoulder; his fingers graze her Mark. His entire palm spans its length and breadth.

“Look at what they’ve done to you,” he murmurs. His eyes are dark, mean pits in his skull. Rey shudders, her skin crawling beneath that withering gaze. “This _ugly thing_ ,” he says, his lips curling to reveal his crooked teeth. His tone drips venom. “When I... I first met you, I thought you were free-born. I couldn’t believe they would mutilate something as sorry as you, until I saw it myself.”

Rey’s not sure why he’s angry, but she’s getting scared. “I’m sorry,” she says.

The words draw light into his eyes again. His brow furrows in confusion as he turns to her. “No, Rey,” he says. He blinks his eyes, his hand squeezing her Marked arm. “It’s - it’s nothing you did,” he says, smiling again. “It’s nothing that I can’t fix.”

He leans in to kiss her brow, then the tip of her nose. The fear dissipates again. Rey cranes her neck and manages to bump her lips against his smooth chin, earning a laugh. More Aberration weirdness, she thinks to herself, her shoulders relaxing. “You’re really a weirdo,” she tells him.

“You don’t know the half of it. Flip over,” he orders. He grabs her shoulder again and Rey reluctantly turns in the seat. Her skin and her hair are getting real hot and staticky against the faux-leather. Every movement has sibilant sounds like crackling or farting. When she whines, he pats her bottom affectionately. “If we did this in my bed, I don’t think I’d be able to stop,” he says cheerfully.

“No butt stuff,” Rey insists.

“Oh. No butt stuff,” he repeats, sadly. His large hands smooth over her back, and down her bare waist. He takes her buttocks and squeezes them, making her squeak. “No stuff _in_ your butt,” he says.

Rey flops her cheek down on the cushions, adjusting to the sheer weight of him as he sits on her thighs, then as he drapes the rest of his body over her back. It’s okay if he touches her, maybe. Finn got. Finn got a handjob from Poe, so it would be equitable if Kylo touches her boobs. His dick is totally pressing against her bottom, so maybe she won’t have to say aloud, like, ‘Hey, you can touch anywhere on the front, okay?’ because if she had to say that aloud, she would probably dissolve into goop out of sheer _cringe_. _Jeez_ , this would be so much easier if they could read minds or something. Rey read soulmate fanfics online, where they can read each other’s emotions.

“Wait,” he blurts out. He slides his body between the back of the seat and her, before flipping Rey onto her side, so her back slots against his chest. His hand reaches beneath her knee and hikes it upwards, so she’s positioned horizontally like a boy dog about to pee.

Rey stares blankly that the ASUS laptop; the screen is blank, but it’s faced towards them. Why-. His palm slides between her legs, making her squirm. Just as she’s about to speak, his other hand clamps tight around her mouth. Panicked, Rey throws back her head and tries to pry off his hand from her mouth. Then his hand slides down her neck and his mouth crashes into hers. Her legs squeak and slide against the faux-leather; long, heavy legs wrap tangle in hers. He thrusts his hips, grinding his hard erection against her bottom. His hand snakes around her waist, long fingers drawing a cleft in the fabric of her panties.

Rey twists her head away to get air, except his hand squeezes her throat. It sounds like he’s talking, but all she can hear is the blood rushing in her ears. Her hair is sticking to everything - to the cushion, to her face, to her eyes, to her neck and his hand, to the corner of her drooling mouth. His nose snuffles against her temple; he’s so close she can make out each sweep of his eyelashes.

Stop, _stop_ \- “ _Stop_ ,” Rey chokes out.

So when he stops, it feels like physical pain. Rey chokes on air, her mouth fallen open. Her back arches, thrusting her bottom into his groin. Her toes curl, digging into the flesh of his coarsely-haired legs.

Delicately, Kylo presses a kiss onto her wet cheek. Then he extracts his legs from hers, his hands sliding out from her thighs and from around her straining neck. Rey lies on the hot faux-leather, too aware of the heat inside her panties. She feels like she has been sorely cheated.

The shutter clicks and Kylo laughs.


	4. He Likes Me Back

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have discovered Blockquote, which I must now inflict upon you (the reader)!!!  
> I'm sorry for my poor coding; if it's distracting then I will fix it ;w;

_— I think you just want me for sex_ , she thinks. Because isn’t that what men like him want? And he is a _man_ , not a high school _boy_ like Finn. Kylo tries to act _young_ and _hip_ , but he can’t bend down to touch his toes, and he hates her music, and all of his memes are outdated. 

_— If he showed up at a high school, he would be arrested_ , thinks Rey, just looking at him. Without a shirt on, he is just _blindingly_ pale. All those moles on his face are like age spots. Sometimes he’s pink around the eyes and mouth for secret reasons. When he tells his long stories, he starts to smile and his teeth jut out, horsily, from his mouth. He wave his big hands in front of him to emphasize the important parts, like every single word. Right now he is talking about his genius dirt-poor Aberration Grandfather, and how he won an illegal drag race when he was a little kid, with his best... _frenemy_ (?) nicknamed _Jar Jar_.

— _If I were Matched to you_ , she begins, but as usual she can’t finish the thought without something sharply aching in her chest. Her chin aches where it rests on the hard dining table, so she tilts her head. Bird-like, Kylo tilts his head with her, without interrupting his story. 

When she thinks of being Matched to Finn, there‘s none of this _feeling_. The future is probably going to be like _now_ , except with their kids tagging along. Work, the mall, and grocery stores; sometimes Poe Dameron will be there. Maybe Rose, too, if she can manage to convince or force her husband to move to the US. But Rey _wants_ this life; it’d be better than everything her mother or Plutt ever gave her. Finn wants it, too.

Which is why _this_ needs to end.

Slowly, she raises her heavy head from off the table. _Kylo?_ she murmurs. Her head spins behind her eyes. 

He pauses his story, and in the meantime he casts an appraising glance at his laptop. “ _Yes,_ honey?” he chirps.

She swallows, feels needles down her throat. It must be dehydration. She’d ask for water, but she doesn’t want to impose on him anymore. This is tougher than she expected it to be. Rey has never ‘broken up’ with anybody before. She’s seen it on old world tv shows and read the old world news reports. Worst case scenario, a man could fly into a murderous rage and kill her. It _was_ that dangerous when people chose who they wanted to pair with, with or without consent. But Kylo doesn’t seem so vicious, even if he’s an Aberration.

She takes a deep breath. “ _I don’t think we should see each other anymore_.”

Kylo doesn’t hear her, she thinks. He just stares at his laptop, eyes flickering over a line of code. ... Maybe she just _thought_ it in her head, instead of _saying_ it aloud? _Oh BIG cringe._ “Kylo?” she ventures weakly.

“Mm-hmm?” he hums. He raises his hand like he’s about to touch his wireless mouse.

She tries again; maybe context would help. Kylo likes to listen to her stories so he can make fun of them after. “Finn says he’s ready to go serious with me,” Rey chokes out. Already the order or the choice of words sound wrong, but she hasn’t memorized a script for this thing. “Poe and Kaydel had a falling out. And Rose is... She just _really_ wants to stay in America, because her sister is here. She said she was sorry, and she needed comfort, and _Finn_ was there, so...” 

Rey had thought that Kylo would ask a question or make a snarky interjection by now. Then again, she thought he would either take it really well or really poorly. This was really nothing at all. He just wasn’t moving at all; his hand hovers in the air.

“... I’m sorry,” Rey says. Maybe this _inconveniences_ him? 

He‘s frozen like a statue. Rey licks her lips. If she would stand up, and close his laptop, she could lean across and _kiss_ him, just _one_ last time. She would kiss his brow, then his nose, and then his lips in that order. But that would be _lame_. Kylo would probably snap out of it, and go _what the fuck are you doing, Rey?_ and he would laugh at her, and Rey would have to laugh it off before going home to cry in her bed. So she traps her hands behind her knees, and she begins to smile to give her mouth something to _do_.

His hand drifts towards the table. He inhales _sharply_ through his nose, then blows through his mouth. 

“Does this mean we’re not watching movies tonight?” he asks mildly.

“I don’t think so...”

Rey bites her bottom lip; her thighs tighten around her hands. When she visits at night, she wakes up in the morning in his arms. They make out, like, _tongue_ -stuff that takes her breath away, until the moment his hand slides down her jumpsuit. Sometimes he sneaks up behind her and smacks her butt, or he just rests his hand there when she lies in the crook of his arm.

He sits back, and he tilts his head. He blinks rapidly, and crosses his thick arms over his chest. “Why?” he asks. 

“Finn wants to - he wants _only_ us,” she repeats.

“Forget -.” He smacks his laptop closed and swipes his hand across the air in front of him. “Forget _Finn_. You _always_ do this,” he says, eyes flashing. “Everything you _do_ is somebody else’s _fault_. Why can’t you -.”

“That’s not _true_ ,” snaps Rey. 

“There’s _no need_ to _yell_ ,” he says, raising his hands diplomatically. “I’m sorry if I offended you. We want the same things.”

“Um. It’s _okay_ ,” mutters Rey, except she’s still thinking on it. She’s getting confused by him and it’s _frustrating_ her. So she trains her eyes on a watermark on the table. “I’ll still bring you interesting stuff that I find.”

“That won’t be necessary,” he says. “I’ll be moving by the end of the week.” 

_Now_ Rey looks at him. “W-why?” she blurts out. “What?”

“I’ve never _stayed_ anywhere for four years before,” he says. “I’m too _visible_ now, and that’s dangerous. Nobody wants a _free_ Aberration; it gives _stupid_ ideas to the ones living in the _ghettos_.”

Where is this coming from? Rey feels her mouth is doing something; is she still smiling? It’s a struggle to think of a coherent sentence. This doesn’t feel real. Maybe he’s joking, or he’s trying to punish her for some reason. “But you said you _liked_ the desert. You said it’s _beautiful_ here.” 

“After a while, it’s just sand,” he says. “It's coarse, and _rough_ and _irritating_ and it _gets_ _everywhere_.”

_Has it been four years?_ He used to keep a helmet over his head every time she visited, she was afraid he was an Aberration _psychopath_. So much has changed about him — or maybe she just got smart enough to appreciate him. He doesn’t wear the helmets so much anymore, and once he’s showered and shaved he’s _really_ nice to look at. He’s funny and he knows fucking _everything, and he’s so good with his hands._

“But why a _week_? How long were you waiting before you’d _tell me_?” _Shit,_ is that _whining_ she hears out of her own stupid mouth? Oh _cringe_.

“I’m telling you _now,_ aren’t I? It’s just _time_ ,” he says. “I know myself. If I drag my plans out, I’ll _never_ leave.”

— _So it’s_ not _my fault?_ she thinks. “Can’t you stay a little longer?”

His brow furrows. “ _How_ long?”

“Like _one_ more year?” When she and Finn will graduate school and move in together and away from Jakku, _then_ Kylo can leave. And she can have one last year with him, watching movies and taking pictures and fitting against his body at night. If she can have one year with Kylo, then it doesn’t matter who has the rest of her life. With the math occupying her head, she doesn’t really think when she blurts out, “ _I’ll miss you a lot_.”

“Then _stay_ with me,” he says. The air goes electric. Suddenly she can’t meet his eyes anymore. He’s not being ironic or _aloof_ or an _asshole_ , and it’s not fair to Rey at all.

Her eyes burn suddenly. She realizes she hasn’t blinked in a long time.

“Forget Finn, Poe, and Rose,” he says, “they’re _nothing_. That _brand_ on your arm doesn’t _define_ you.”

Rey shivers all over; her Mark prickles and burns, and she rubs her hand over it to _soothe_ it, to confirm that it’s still there. Finn — she’s promised to _Finn_.

“I see you leaving Jakku,” Kylo says, “with _me_. We could go anyplace we want, and make anything we want... Even _children_.” At the last word, his voice trembles, and suddenly Rey understands just _what_ Kylo wants from her. This is why she needs to leave.

Rey slips out of the booth and backs towards the door. In some ways, she and Kylo are the same: it’s time for her to go, or she’d never leave. 

Suddenly Kylo is out of his seat and standing upright, except he’s farther from the door than her. He’s big and tall, and he asks _Where’re you going_ in monotone, but they both know he can’t stop her from leaving. “I think you’ll find a nice Aberration girl,” Rey chokes out. “She’s going to be very pretty and she’ll know a bunch about art and artists, and you can h... have _children_ with her.”

“ _Stay_ ,” he snaps, like she’s a dog. His voice thickens and adds a threat to each of his words. “Rey, you’re making a _big_ mistake. You think that Mark on your arm makes you _better_ than me, but you’re _wrong_.”

“I don’t think that at all.” 

“Yes you do; they _all_ do.” His face twists _hatefully_. “You think you can have your _fun_ and throw me away, but I’ll _show you._ ”

“I _don’t_ ,” she says, wincing. This was all a mistake. This was one big stupid mistake on her part; she never would have agreed to this if it would have hurt him this much. She pushes open the door and the hot desert air rushes in. “Goodbye, Kylo,” she says.

.

Unfortunately, _Plutt_ is still awake when she gets home. He’s on the sofa watching something loud on the tv, but not loud enough that he doesn’t hear the door open and shut closed behind her. 

“ _Hey_ ,” he grunts. “ _Where the fuck have you been?_ ”

Rey throws all of the locks on the front door and ignores him.

“ _Bitch_ ,” he mutters, sniffling. 

Rey casts a wary glance at him before she runs upstairs. The couch where Plutt parks himself every night has begun to mold itself to the shape of his body. Against the bloated sack of his upper arm, is the stretched black and white rectangle of his Mark. Since he was Widowed, years of bitterness and malignant self-pity have dragged his features downwards; his forehead over his hard little eyes, his chin over his neck, his gut over his crotch. He’s the reason why she could befriend an Aberration; despite his misfortune, Kylo could still be _kind_ and _considerate_.

Plutt meets her eyes by accident. His mouth curls into a snarl, but before he can throw some invectives at her, she’s already up the stairway and inside her room. She throws the door behind her and locks it.

She climbs out of her jumpsuit and brushes the sand that somehow slipped inside anyway. Then she digs up her phone from it’s hiding spot, and brushes the sand off of that as well. Her mouth crimps into a line. Angry, she peels off her undergarments and her hair ties and shakes out her hair and stamps her feet, anything to dislodge the itchy grit against her scalp and the folds and crevices of her skin. 

It’s not enough; already she can feel kernels of sand digging into her skin, when she turns out the light and curls up naked in bed. Unable to sleep, she turns on her phone to light up the dark. Finn has posted a meme with two cute Porgs with a little heart and sent it to Rey, and Rose _liked_ it. That’s fine. There’s nothing bad about that.

.

At first she thinks it’s an alarm, but she hasn’t set an alarm. By instinct she normally wakes up before Plutt. The sound comes again; it’s her phone buzzing against the nightstand. 

Her phone buzzes, again. When she picks it up, the screen lights up and blinds her for a few seconds. At the top of the screen is the newest message, which reads,

> **WHORE**

Rey stares dumbly at it, before inputting her password and opening her home screen. She opens her messages, and scrolls up and down with her fingers. Her eyes catch on

> **BITCH**

> **YOU FUCKING**

> **STUPID**

> **CUNT**

> **SLAG**

> **YOU UGLY WHORE**

> **DESERT TRASH**

> **WHORE**

Her bare skin pebbles. She shifts uncomfortably in bed, feeling small and alone and _cold_. 

Her phone buzzes again,

> **BITCH**

_Just now_

> Kylo? 

> Is that you? 

> **FUCK YOU**

> **FUCK YOU AND YOUR CUCK**

Rey waits for a few seconds. Her fingers tremble over the keypad. Chest feels tight. She’s really scared suddenly, like he’s hiding under her bed, waiting to grab her by the ankles.

> Why’re you doing this? 

Rey stares at the screen. Then she sees the three dots that mean that he’s typing. They disappear then reappear. The phone is heavy in her hands, but she can’t close her eyes. 

The phone buzzes; it’s a video. Rey presses it. It looks like he’s sent her _porn_. Her phone is on mute, but there’s no denying: it’s a man straddling the back of some poor girl, like they’re about to do _butt_ _stuff_. Embarrassment floods her face. — _Well fine_ , she thinks, _he’s just_ that _upset_. Then the color of the faux-leather jogs her memory; but why...

Suddenly, the man slides against the cushions and Rey recognizes more than the furniture. Kylo’s eyes flicker to the camera and his smile just grows a little wider. He flips the girl so that she faces the camera. 

Rey watches as Kylo’s hand snakes around her waist, into the fork of her thighs. Phone-Rey’s eyes widen and her mouth falls open. She bunches her knees and tries to slide away, but his other hand seizes her throat. Rey’s own throat tightens; her thighs squeeze shut. The phone is muted but she can hear the words that Phone-Rey mouths breathlessly. Only now she realizes that Kylo is looking at her; he’s rolling his hips into his bottom, but he’s looking at her. He knows exactly what he‘s doing. He knows exactly when to _stop_ , too.

Rey shivers; he casts one last glance at the camera while she writhes beneath him in silent agony. He kisses her cheek. His lips are moving but no sound comes out; Rey presses the volume button and drags time backwards by a handful of seconds. _Oof_. She doesn’t remember him _saying_ anything, she was _so_ _out_ of it. When she plays again, the embarrassing sound of whimpers fills the room; Rey cringes physically and mentally. But his voice trickles through her hearing. He's cooing to her; the mic is sensitive enough that she can hear his small breaths through his nose. _That's it_ , he says, _that's it, sweetheart_.

“ _I love you; I love you so much_ ,” he sighs.


End file.
